Page 147 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8

Walking beneath the portico, she headed around the vast building to the beautiful French windows that led off the dining room. She knocked on the glass and then pushed down the handle, her smile widening in delight when she saw that Gio was indeed dressed and shaved. Not only that, but spread out on the table were necklaces, earrings...the family jewels—and she rather hoped she knew why.

Perhaps Mimi would be getting a ring after all!

Mimi, his housekeeper, had walked out on New Year’s Eve, Gio had told her. She wanted more.

At first, Susie had assumed she wanted more money—but no. She’d gleaned from Gio the fact Mimi wanted more acknowledgement...more respect.

And during her daily talks with Mimi, who was keeping an eye on Gio from a distance, via Susie, she’d found out that Mimi wanted to be more than Gio’s secret mistress.

Susie had blushed at that.

Gio had told her a little about it too...

‘Signor Casadio...’ she said now, and smiled.

‘Ah, Susie...’

He half stood, and she waved him to sit back down. And then, before Gio had time to inform her, she knew there was another person in the room.

‘I have a guest,’ Gio said, with a wry edge to his tone. ‘Usually, I am informed prior to his arrival.’

‘I wasn’t aware I needed an invitation.’

The unexpected guest stepped forward.

He was still in his coat, his black hair a little damp from the rain, and had clearly just arrived. It had to be one of the grandsons—Gio had shown her photos of them, though they were all from a long time ago. Before Gio’s family had been torn apart by a dreadful tragedy.

She knew she should be relieved that one of the grandsons was finally here.

And in a moment perhaps she would be both pleased and relieved that someone was here for Gio.

First, though, she must attune herself to his beauty.

Her skin had to cool from the blush that had emerged, her mouth had to work out how to move, and she somehow had to step down from the high alert her senses had been placed on.

No photo could truly have prepared her, for it wasn’t just his physical beauty, but the dark eyes and the way, though he stood by a wall, he somehow commandeered the room.

‘My grandson,’ Gio informed her. ‘Dante.’

‘Oh,’ Susie croaked, and then made the foolish mistake of attempting small talk while blindsided by beauty. ‘The cheeky one!’

Her little quip dropped like a stone between them.

He wiped the smile from her face with a sharp frown.

It was then that she realised the foolishness of her words. Of talking to this imposing man in the terms Gio had used as he’d reminisced.

Dante was the younger one.

The cheeky one.

The funny one.

The loving one.

She wanted to die. Of all the ridiculous things to say! The impish, cheeky little boy that Gio had spoken about was nowhere to be seen. This man’s lips were almost scathing, with no trace of a smile, and his eyes were suspicious—as if she were some kind of intruder.

Susie rather wished the marble floor beneath her feet would open up and swallow her.